


prologue; bring me to life in a new city

by vitaemins



Series: void in dawn [1]
Category: The Rose (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, confused feelings, vaguely sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 08:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitaemins/pseuds/vitaemins
Summary: More than half of their childhoods were snowball fights in an overcrowded city, the chilling clarity of the stars above lulling them into a false sense of security and calm.  More than half of their childhoods were spent in small apartments where no one could afford the rent, but they managed to scrape by anyway. More than half of their childhoods were a whole continent away, two if you were lucky.





	prologue; bring me to life in a new city

Everyday, like clockwork, they drove out to Santa Monica beach on a cool summer’s evening. The wind off the ocean was stale and the salt stuck to their skin like glue; it should feel like being young. It should feel like being a kid again; driving up the coast until they found the perfect strip of beach to be at, a secluded part of the beach where it could be just them four. It should, but it doesn’t, because more than half of them weren’t kids here--in the land of glitter and dreams; palm trees and sunshine.

More than half of their childhoods were snowball fights in an overcrowded city, the chilling clarity of the stars above lulling them into a false sense of security and calm.  More than half of their childhoods were spent in small apartments where no one could afford the rent, but they managed to scrape by anyway. More than half of their childhoods were a whole continent away, two if you were lucky. 

They all remember different things, have different feeling behind their eyelids and in their hearts. For Woosung, it’s being here--back in California after all the years he spent feeling alone in a country with people just like him. When he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, this was the air he remembered breathing in. This was the city he loved. All Woosung ever wanted was to be back in California again, but without the sacrifices he probably never would’ve met the people who make his home away from home feel just like that; a home.Without the risk, he’d never be as happy as he is right now; with the loves of his life in the back of his silver Jeep singing popular songs on a radio station he’d listened to countless times as a kid.  

Dojoon thinks about his family and how they’re scattered across the world like birdseed. When he was younger he always dreamt of visiting them all. Some in New Zealand, some in America, he didn’t care. He just wanted to see everyone. But he realized something: just because you care about someone doesn’t always necessarily mean they’ll care about you in return. Dojoon decided it wasn’t worth his time, pleasing people who so blatantly didn’t care. 

Hajoon isn’t thinking about anything, not really anyway. His mind was always racing--going and going and going until it got unbearable. Part of the reason why he stood so quiet all the time was to not make a fool of himself, to not fuel the already nagging part of his brain that told him he wasn’t worthy of anything. Sometimes it’s better to be quiet than to overanalyze everything, sometimes it’s better to listen to a song and not overanalyze the meaning of lyrics he never wrote to begin. If the throb of the speakers were to blow out his eardrums, right now wouldn’t be the time he thought about that. Honestly, with a mind like his, it’s a blessing to stop thinking at all. 

Jaehyeong is the only one with his eyes wide open. He can see the way Woosung’s left arm in the empty gap where the window was rolled down from, hand making little undulations against the air that rushed past the car. He can see Dojoon breathing fog onto the rear window, index finger tracing in trees and mountains and things that just feel like home. And Hajoon is there too, as silent as ever, with legs extended to rest by the headrest of Jaehyeong’s seat. Hajoon looks like he’s contemplating whether it’s better to stay awake or dream. 

They’ve done this countless times before, so many that it was hard to seperate them all. But Jaehyeong savors it every time. He honestly loves California, loves knowing how he can dip his feet into the Pacific Ocean and feel like he’s standing on a beach in Korea. There’s a whole new frontier waiting for him, but it can wait, because he’s on the edge of Korea and California and everything just feels right--better than they did before. 

He hardly ever gets homesick anymore. 

Jaehyeong watches Woosung, gripping the steering wheel of  his car with white knuckles, turn onto the freeway. They’re headed almost directly into the sunset right now and Woosung’s fingers tap tap tap against the side of the car. Hajoon’s foot brushes against his elbow as he removes it from the space where the headrest meets the seat, the only sign that they’re closer to the beach. Soon enough, they’ll be parked and sprawled out on that giant teal and yellow beach blanket, and it’ll begin. 

Jaehyeong knows what’s going on. He always has.

For Woosung, this ritual they have is about sex--about the tangible bodies, the tremor of muscles; Hajoon’s breath that hitches and Dojoon’s enthusiasm, and the sweaty stick of Jaehyeong’s hair to his forehead. It’s about harnessing all the pent up energy and making it into something more, something better, something real. 

To Dojoon, it’s family. It’s the comfort and the familiar squeeze of his loved ones. It’s the comfort of being held during a thunderstorm, and he sometimes wonders if this would be the same if it were one on one. With Woosung, who moans like he sings, or Jaehyeong, who knows so many things about using his hands, teeth, and tongue that it’ll drive him crazy. Even Hajoon, who’s their shining, sexually deviant, leader in the whole situation.  

Hajoon uses it as a way to quiet down the loudness of everyday life. They’re his best friends before any relationship came along, they’ll understand him. They do understand him, and they way they give pleasure this freely--the way this is simultaneously so right and so wrong. Hajoon never turned down a good paradox.  

Every single one of them has a reason for being there except for Jaehyeong, who feels like his entire body is submerged in water. 

When did everything get so convoluted? Most days they love each other too much, too heavily, when they really shouldn't. Other days, when it needs to happen, they don't love each other enough. And, every once in a while, Jaehyeong will catch one of them staring-- a kind of possession mixed in with softness and he knows they've already fucked everything up. 

They've been messed everything up the minute they stuck up that damn Beatles poster on Woosung's apartment. The one with the cut outs of their faces on it. 

They've broken every acceptable rule and now they're gonna break. Four is an even number, yes, but it's not balanced. Eventually jealousy and want will tumble their seven year dynasty. Jaehyeong knows this reality. Jealousy is the destroyer of love, the downfall of man. 

Nobody is immune to it.    
  
But Jaehyeong doesn't think about that much. He loses himself in Hajoon's smile, in Dojoon's tender touch, in Woosung's words--it convinces him for a second that there isn't an impending doom lingering over them.   


Dojoon is strawberries and sunshine, the taste of summer and not knowing what to do or how to love. Dojoon is the feeling of ice water after being in the heat for too long, refreshing and always leaving you wanting more. Hajoon's a cool breeze; he's the scent off the ocean. Hajoon is holding your breath as soft lapping waves come over your body. And Woosung.

Woosung is everything.    


He's the sturdy ground, the scent of earth after a rainstorm. He's the rustle of the wind cutting sharp through the leaves, the heat rising off of cement on a hot summer day. 

Woosung doesn't just have fire, he is fire. He embodies it, jumping between tasks like a flame--he's capable of destroying every single one of them with how hot he burns. 

Everything stands out in the drama of shadows and starlight. Jaehyeong sees every flaw the others keep hidden: for Woosung it's his shoulder still scarred from past injuries, for Hajoon it's his chest thathe thinks is not as bulky as the others, for Dojoon it's his hip littered with beauty marks. He can see Woosung and his love of football, Hajoon and his passion for music, and Dojoon and his love for them all. 

Jaehyeong notices Hajoon's cheek dimple and how his eyes flutter shut when he kisses him, kisses Jaehyeong while Woosung's hand is shoved down the front of his jeans. He notices that Dojoon is nowhere to be seen, but when he feels a hand on his back and hears the sound of a belt Jaehyeong can formulate a picture of what Dojoon was doing.    
  
Hajoon sucks a bruise into the skin below his jaw, and Jaehyeong keens--he wants to make them feel something instead of being the one being made to feel everything. He wants to make them feel and the thought is like liquid mercury low in his stomach, sliding beneath his skin.

There’s teeth grazing the inside of his thigh and Jaehyeong can’t help but feel hot--like he’s burning from the inside out. He was always the first to give in. A hand bumps his, and Jaehyeong’s fingers cling to it, to calluses crafted in his presence. He recognizing Woosung in the same way he recognizes Dojoon moving inside, the push and pull of skin like a storm in his ribcage. Woosung’s arm is snaked around Hajoon’s side, forearm resting against Jaehyeong’s hip and, when his skin rubs against Dojoon’s, he can feel a shiver go right through Dojoon’s spine and everything gets more intense, more focused, more _determined_. 

Jaehyeong comes in a crescendo. It’s a sweaty summer night in California and the knowledge that they love each other all wrong and right at the same time is thrilling. But Jaehyeong can’t help but feel that, one day, they’ll implode.


End file.
